One Day
by rachangeleyes
Summary: This is an AU for Dean and Cas based on the novel 'One Day' by David Nicholls. None of the characters are mine. Dean and Cas meet one night but tomorrow they could go their separate ways. This catches up with Dean and Cas for one day every year.
1. Chapter 1

**_Friday 15_****_th_****_ July, 1988_**

"So what do you want to do now?" he asked.

"I think travelling. First, visit the parents then go to France… China maybe…"

"How predictable," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Hey!"

"It's alright for those who can afford it."

Dean smiled to himself and turned, propping himself up on his elbow, and kissed him. They settled back down onto the pillow until he broke the silence.

"I didn't mean _now_ now. I meant in the future…when you're fifty or something."

"Fifty? Fuck, Cas-"

"Who's Cas?"

"People call you Cas- I've heard them. Hester, Rachel-"

"My friends call me Cas."

"So I can't call you Cas?"

"Sure, Dean."

And, with that confirmation, Dean Winchester started talking elaborately about how he wished to become famous and do television shows but Castiel wasn't listening. He studied the man next to him closely. It was no secret that Dean was attractive, in fact, it was well known. The way he slouched, his lazy grin, his pursed lips and cocky speech that gave him an aura of confidence. Castiel Novak thought that maybe "attractive" was too simplistic for Dean. "Beautiful" seemed to fit more. With his bright green eyes, freckles dotted all over his nose and cheeks, his caramel hair and light stubble across his chin- Castiel had never seen anyone like him.

As if Dean could hear his thoughts, he turned on his side and seemed to flex, showing off his biceps and his abdomen and grinned. Castiel snapped out of it. _Beautiful? Really, Castiel? Come on, stay in control. _

"I think I can imagine you at fifty," he commented.

"Go on then, read my future."

"Okay, well you're rich and you own a sports car with the roof down- still with your full head of thick hair… greying slightly-"

"Hey!"

"-and you live in a huge mansion in a really posh part of London living with some handsome man in large sunglasses who- let's face it- is thick as shit-"

"Cas."

"But there's another two divorcees and no kids then a Friday in July, you'll be driving across the country, laughing with a set of bright white teeth alongside partner number three or four…" He stopped, realising he sounded crazy.

"Maybe I should go," Dean muttered.

"Don't go," he said too quickly.

"Alright," he replied, getting back under the cover. "But how do you know all that? You barely even know me."

"I know you're type, Dean."

"My type?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, your laid-back, casual, handsome types who think they can charm their way easily through life."

"So," Dean questioned with his hand on Castiel's thigh, "if I'm so awful, how come you're in bed with me?"

"At least I haven't slept with you."

Dean chuckled and pulled him closer, kissing him.

"Just give me a second," Cas said, rolling out of bed and disappearing into the bathroom. "Don't go away," he called through the door.

Dean exhaled through his nose and glanced around Castiel Novak's small flat. It was dingy and filled with educational books- tons of them- and a record player, a small radio and a small television. It was in desperate need of painting, judging by the stained walls, and a really good clean. He'd seen Castiel before around university. He was a quiet, shy boy in the classroom but fiercely individual and the problem with these boys is that they were all the same.

Both Castiel and Dean wanted the same out of life at twenty three. They both wanted to be successful and earn money all whilst making their parents proud of them- something that did not come easily to Dean. He and his dad differed on a lot of things. His dad thought that travelling was a waste of time and that Dean's dream of becoming famous was ridiculous. Coming here tonight with Castiel had been a mistake, he thought.

In the bathroom, Castiel Novak's heart was pounding in his chest. After being single for years, finally someone he really liked was in his bed. Though he suspected that Dean Winchester wasn't exactly the smartest of all the people he had glanced at more than once in the past, he was okay, wasn't he? The only thing really digging at him was the fact that, after tonight, he would probably never see Dean again.

Dean stopped tugging on his jeans when he heard the bathroom door click open and Cas stood at a mock-seductive angle against the doorframe. His face fell as he noticed what Dean was doing.

"Oh…sorry, you can-"

"No, I was just-"

"-go if you want."

Dean stopped fiddling with the belt of his jeans and, noticing how saddened Cas looked, he tugged them back off and slid back down into his bed. From the bed, Dean considered how the other man looked. Castiel had raven hair sticking out at all angles and big round glasses covering his shocking blue eyes. Dean supposed he'd be quiet attractive if he lost the cheap glasses that made him look like a working class teen. Of course, Cas would probably take that as a compliment. He was a person who referred to the term "bourgeois" as an insult. But was it? In Dean's view, "bourgeois" just meant having sufficient money and owning nice items and dressing nicely. Was that such a crime?

Noticing Dean had settled back down into the bed, Castiel sighed happily and joined him. He snuggled up next to Dean and felt the warm radiating off him.

"So, me and you? True love, do you think?" Cas laughed sleepily.

"Go to sleep, Cas," Dean said.

"What do you have planned for tomorrow?"

Before Dean could say _I'm extremely busy _and utter an apology, he said, "Nothing."

"We should do something."

"Like what?"

"A walk."

"A walk?" Dean asked, noticing it was getting light outside and the sky was turning a salmon pink.

"Yeah," Cas whispered, closing his eyes. "A walk up the hill."

"Okay then. A walk up the hill."


	2. Chapter 2

**_15_****_th_****_ July, 1989_**

_Hey, Dean._

_ Hope you're enjoying Rome and not flirting with everyone too much. I bet it's sunny over there, unlike here. London is damp and murky- everything you wanted to get away from- and I don't blame you. I'm working in the theatre right now with a few people. Tessa, Charlie, Bela… You'd probably like Bela.. Bouncy and fun and loud. Don't let looks fool you though (like always) she's arrogant and thinks she can sing all of 'Les Miserables' and hit every note without fail. Hint: she can't.  
Please, when you see your mum and dad again, don't forget to apologise to them for what happened the last time I was round. I really didn't mean to call your dad a fascist. Just apologise for me, Dean. Say you'll do that…_

"Who do you keep writing these letters to, Cas?"

"Dean."

"Oh…" There was a pause. "Is he the boy you like?"

"I'm twenty four. And no. He's travelling, I'm just writing letters to him."

"Okay. I'll leave you to it then."

His mother left the room and Castiel resumed writing but he couldn't shake what she had said. He wanted to be with Dean badly and he missed him terribly. These letters were killing him to write but he had no choice. It relieved the pain for a while.

Dean Winchester lay back in his bed half naked. The loud fan blew warm air around the room and- just for a moment- he wished for the cold air of London to wash over him.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Oh, you're in here," Cassie replied, swinging around the doorframe with a grin on her face.

"Where else would I be?" he asked, sitting up and holding his arms out.

Cassie giggled and joined him on the bed. "Oh, let's go for a walk today!"

"I can't, I have to meet my parents."

"Can't you just reschedule?" she groaned.

"Sorry, I can't."

Cassie looked down and bit her lip. "Are you going to tell them about me?"

"I think if I told them I was sleeping with a student they wouldn't be too happy," Dean laughed.

"You could-"

"No, sorry," he said, ending the conversation and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I have to go," Dean stated, pulling on his jeans.

"Now?" she moaned, running her hands over his shoulders.

"Yeah, see you later."

_...So, how's life in Rome? No, wait, I can guess. Beautiful architecture, hot weather, gorgeous people et-bloody-cetera. Don't make me jealous. It's once of the most beautiful cities in the world and you're "teaching English". I'll believe that one when I see your teaching degree. Don't sleep with too many of your students. I'm working in a dingy Tex-Mex restaurant at the moment. For the rest of my life! Ha. Hopefully, it'll all change soon. Maybe my career in theatre will take off like a rocket! I hope you're doing well, Dean…_

Dean could see his mother from where he stood. She was beautiful- long blonde hair, slim frame, bright green eyes and pale complexion. Mary was sat under an awning in a straw chair outside of a restaurant, unaware that Dean stood close by just appreciating her glow. He chuckled to himself and then walked over.

"Hey, mum."

"Oh, hello, sweetheart," she said, turning her head and kissing him on his cheek. "Get me up out of this chair and let's go and find your dad."

He did as she asked and she took his arm as they walked further away from the shade of the awning.

"So, what are you doing now?"

"Teaching English, mum."

"Oh, Dean."

"What?"

She sighed. "Nothing. Oh- look! There he is!"

Dean spotted his dad slouching in a wooden chair with his bare feet resting on a fountain.

"John, look who's here," Mary said quietly.

His dad barely looked up as he grunted in response.

"You here on your own?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"What have you been doing?"

"Just travelling!" his mother interrupted smoothly, glancing at Dean.

"Yeah, dad, just travelling."

"On your own?"

"Yeah, on my own."

"What about that boy you know?"

Dean felt heat rising up his neck. "Which boy?"

"The boy you invited round for dinner that one time last year…" he said. "The one who called me a fascist."

"Castiel," Dean replied.

His dad looked up at him.

"Castiel… The name rings a bell but didn't you call him something different?"

"Cas, dad. Cas."

"Have you heard from him?"

Dean knew his dad's mind wasn't open to every idea but he knew that he wasn't stupid. John Winchester was smart but the fact that he hadn't brought up anything about what could have gone on between Dean and Cas was still a mystery to Dean.

"I mean, he wasn't your usual type but that could only be an improvement. At least he had the confidence to shout at me. Your past things have just sat there or giggled whenever I said something unfunny."

He didn't know how to respond to that. It was more of a statement or a fact than a question.

"I haven't heard from him for a few months. He writes letters occasionally."

Exhaling slowly through his nose, Dean relaxed into the bar seat next to his best friend Sam.

"Ever thought of journalism or television?" the taller man asked Dean.

"Journalism?" Dean laughed.

"Hey, television is a growing business. You could be a presenter or something!"

"Thanks, Sam, but I doubt I'd be any good at it."

"Oh, come on. It's the easiest thing in the world! Listen, when we get back, I'll set you up with someone from London in the business. They'll get you started. You could even make some good money!"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks for this, Sam."

_ …You'll probably go off somewhere new after Rome, won't you? China, you said once. Or, maybe, India or Thailand? Anyway, I hope you'll find whatever you're looking for, Dean. Write back soon. I miss you.  
Love, Cas._


End file.
